


Three Things that Crona Doesn't Remember

by terajk



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Gen, Genderqueer Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terajk/pseuds/terajk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's like talking to people without having to talk to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Things that Crona Doesn't Remember

Marie-sensei is late. Again.

"Should we call Shinigami-sama?" Tsubaki asks.

Maka doesn't look up from the book she's reading--it's like she looks at it even harder. _"No."_

Death the...Kid looks at his watch. "Give her eight more minutes."

"No class! _Hell,_ yeah!" Black Star and Soul do that...that thing they do. That handshakey thing that looks like hitting but isn't.

"No class!" Patty throws her books behind her, hits Liz in the face. "Let's go out for ice cream! You guys buy!"

The place between Crona's shoulders explodes. "Ice cream? Where? C'mon, dumbass!" Ragnarok hits hir in the back of the head twice.

Crona _would_ like some ice cream, if Ragnarok doesn't eat it all. But then sie'd have to say something-- _Can I come?_ or _Me, too?_ \--and sie's too afraid to let the words go, even with "we" and "us" instead. (Dumbass.)

And going for ice cream doesn't seem right, anyway.

Sie doesn't know what to say, what to do, so sie looks at Maka. Maka turns a page of her book. "Idiots," she says.

Then Crona remembers: if Marie-sensei doesn't come soon, Maka's papa will. "I'll find her," sie whispers, because sometimes hir words come for Maka. Only Maka.

* * *

Crona first. Crona can be first because sie is very, very small.

"Man! You're even stupider than I thought." Ragnarok yawns, stretches tall. Pulls Crona's shoulders up slightly so hir pencil skids.

Crona erases the mark--darker, more decisive than sie would ever make--and doesn't answer. How to make tiny Crona's mouth? Of course--sie doesn't need one. Eyes, either. Or a nose.

"You know what? You're even stupider than _he_ is."

"Stop it." Tiny Crona's feet dangle, a marionette with its strings cut.

"I mean, don't you remember how he was on the floor crying because he was afraid of a cushion? It was hilarious."

"You laughed so hard it hurt my ears." A line sweeps up, crests out like an ocean wave in one of Medusa-sama's picture books.

Ragnarok leans forward; Crona rolls hir shoulders to help. "Bigger, you idiot. I was bigger."

"Oh." Crona always forgets how to take up space. Sie erases again.

Ragnarok's head is done when he says, " 'Freedom from fear,' my ass. What a liar. I bet they're _all_ liars. They're just pretending to like uh...you."

The claws now, black and sharp like hir power. "Shut up."

"Yeah. They're probably laughing at you right now."

Sie wishes tiny Crona had a mouth now, so the black blood could come out of it in a sword _(like the Kishin, the one sie's too stupid to be)._ "I don't care."

For a long time, Crona holds hir pencil just above the paper.

_You can't draw him, idiot. You suck at drawing._

_How bad do you want this? It would be easier to stop now._

Crona thinks of Black Star and Professor Stein blasting each other with their soul wavelenghts; of Black Star and Maka on the roof, steel clashing and sometimes blood, and then Maka and Tsubaki hugging, Black Star and Soul doing their special handshake. It's like talking to people without having to talk to them. Like this picture.

(Still, this picture needs words. "Finish our fight?" might be good.)

Sie could ask Maka, but sie asks Maka for so many things already and, anyway, she's too nice. Crona wants a real fight, from someone who won't _(feel sorry for)_ go easy on hir. 

"Strengthen your soul," he had said. But Crona isn't strong, and this picture sucks. Anything sie said or gave to him would have to be right, more right than it would for other people, even. Sie can't do anything right except killing, and Ragnarok did most of that.

Crona tears the drawing into tiny pieces, throws them away.

* * *

The black blood is like knives tearing hir body up from the inside. Knives that are on fire.

The knives twist, and those are Crona's shoulders, hir ribs. They stab, and it's the hollow spot above hir butt. They cut hir open from the center--that's Ragnarok coming to make sure sie doesn't do anything stupid.

But in the desert, when the girl holds hir, there's a scissors-stab only briefly, and then only burning. Then there's heat that doesn't come from the fire.

It's a new pain--one Crona can't map, doesn't know what to do with. But sie would like to feel it again.


End file.
